“Not for certain.”
“Then he—he had a guess.”
“Yes, Mac. He guessed a man whose initials are the same as those in that hat.”
“Who do you mean, Nick?”
“I don’t need to tell you that. You know who.”
“If you mean Luck Cullison, it’s a damned lie,” exploded the cattleman. He was furious with himself, for he felt now that he had been unsuspectingly helping to certify the suspicions of the sheriff. Like an idiot, he had let out much that told heavily against his friend.
“I hope so.”
“Cass Fendrick is not on good terms with him. We all know that. Luck has got him in a hole. I wouldn’t put it a bit above Cass to lie if he thought it would hurt Luck. Tell you it’s a damned conspiracy. Man, can’t you see that?”
“What about this hat, with the two holes shot through the rim?”
“Sho! We all wear hats just like that. Look at mine.” Billie held it out eagerly.